


Where's My Brother?

by Malfoysdarkness



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hella angst though, I'm so sorry for all of this, M/M, Minor Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Pietro Maximoff Feels, Poor Peter, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, i promise this has a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malfoysdarkness/pseuds/Malfoysdarkness
Summary: Those words haunted Peter. He wanted Scott, but he didn't know why. Didn't let himself feel.Or,Peter breaking himself apart as he watches Scott be happy without him.
Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Pietro Maximoff/Scott Summers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 71





	1. Peter's Mind as Fast as His Feet

_"Where's my brother?"_

Those were the first words Peter heard, and they haunted him. He had been too cocky, too triumphant. Yes, he'd gotten all the kids out, but not the guy whose death caused a rupture in everything Peter could have had. Scott. 

The boy had come running over from the garish yellow car, dark sunglasses disrupting his eyes from view. Seeing the kid stumbling across the wreckage, Peter blinked. 

_"I think I got everybody,"_ Peter had replied, unthinking. Of course he wasn't thinking. He was pleased with himself, almost bouncing on his toes, but there was a slight edge of dread to his mind. Had he left someone behind? 

Scott had run over to the edge of the large, gaping hole in the ground, the centre of the explosion. The doctor, Hank McCoy, spoke. 

_"Alex was closest to the blast."_

So he had left someone. That someone was Scott's brother. The boy in the glasses. The boy who would someday grow to hate him. Peter had all that to look forward to, he just didn't know it yet. 

-

"Maximoff! Stop slacking off and listen!" 

Peter sighed, tossing the twinkie wrapper in the bin, letting the lid snap shut and wandering over to join the rest of them. Five years of X-training which all lead to this moment. An actual mission. And why was Peter not paying attention? Well, because it was the most boring mission ever made. It was child's play, though Raven seemed to think it was still too difficult for the five of them. 

The others seemed equally bored. Jean was making her pencil spin in circles above her desk, Kurt's tail was swishing from side to side, like he was dancing to a song only in his head. Ororo was running her fingers through her mohawk and Scott's fingers were tapping out a rhythm on the table in front of him, chin on his hand. 

Peter much preferred to watch his teammates, as their antics were much more interesting than the knowledge Raven was trying to force into their brains. He caught Scott's expression every time the boy looked his way, and Peter returned it with a lazy middle finger. Peter didn't know why Scott hated him. Oh, wait, he did. 

Five years since Alex had died in the explosion. Five years and Scott had never forgiven him. Peter knew that to be true. One night, a year or so after his death, Peter had been awoken by Scott shouting and shaking him, yelling how he should have saved Alex. Peter had been frozen in shock until he realised Scott had been having a night terror. He managed to get the boy back into his own bed, but not before his arms had been scratched by Scott's fingernails. They didn't bleed but Peter knew he deserved it. He knew he deserved whatever pain Scott wanted to bring on him. 

Neither of them ever mentioned that night, but there was tension between them that hadn't been there before. Their friends were confused. The boys had always joked around and teased each other, like boys usually did, but now they actively avoided each other. Peter sat at a different table for dinner. Scott moved his desk further away, closer to Jean. Peter didn't speak as they passed each other in the hallway. Scott left any conversation that involved the other. 

It was horrible. Their friends couldn't understand the silence, and neither would ever say. Occasionally, Peter caught Scott looking at him, but the other boy turned his face away when their eyes met. Well, Peter supposed their eyes met. With Scott's visor, it was difficult to tell if he had even been looking at Peter at all. 

Jean tried to get them to speak to each other, or even to find out what happened, but she wouldn't break Scott's trust of never reading his mind, and Peter's own thoughts were too fast for her to see properly. The two boys were breaking their friendship group apart, but eventually they all sided with Scott. They were the same age, anyway, whereas Peter was in his thirties. The age gap hurt, especially when they all chose Scott. Even Kurt, who Peter was very close with. 

Peter lost all his friends because of a painful string of events, which ended up with him sitting at the back of the classroom as Raven explained the mission, not a part of any of the other games or whispers going on in the room. Peter had always struggled to make friends and losing all of his own had taken a huge toll. 

"Are we clear on everything? Peter! Were you even listening?" 

Raven's voice broke Peter out of his daydream and his elbow slid off his desk. An echo of snickers ran round the room and Peter's face flushed. "Uh, yes."

Raven gave him a look. "Go on, then. Tell me." 

Put on the spot, Peter slowly straightened up, eyes flickering quickly to the board. Ah. Of course. "Ororo and Jean scope out the building, I run in, take down the defences. Scott blasts down the doors and Kurt teleports the prisoners out."

Raven appeared mildly impressed but Peter couldn't care less. He had seen Scott looking at him again. Despite not being able to see the boys eyes, he could tell his expression. It wasn't one of hatred or anger. 

Peter didn't even know if the boy hated him. He had plenty of reason to, they had just drifted apart. Peter didn't understand why. He missed his friends. Even Erik had noticed Peter was down, but never asked more than a gruff 'Alright kid?'. The man was worse than Logan at parenting. Anyway, Peter could hardly be called a kid anymore. 

"When are we going on this mission, Raven?" Jean piped up. She even raised her hand, like she was in middle school. Peter fought the urge to laugh, knowing he would get even more glares. He wisely stayed silent, flicking his pen across his fingers in a blur. 

"On Friday. It gives Charles and I enough time to organise everything," Raven replied. Peter couldn't help himself now. 

"What is there to organise? This is the simplest mission ever? Come on, we've fought a mutant god, this is easy peasy." 

Raven glared at him but it didn't faze Peter. He always got glared at, he was immune to them now. Apart from when Scott glared at him, of course. That gave him a sharp pang in his chest, one which he never quite understood. It hurt him, made him want to beg for forgiveness, ask if Scott truly hated him. Peter felt sick from the weakness. 

"Get ready for Friday. I suggest you train, otherwise you won't be seeing it through," she said darkly. Peter could feel everyone's eyes on him, including Scott's red gaze, though thankfully not blasting anything. Peter felt a loss of what to say and was relieved when Raven turned back to the others and began to speak more. This mission was going to be simple, but getting there certainly wouldn't be. 


	2. Realisation

_ "So, so you think you can tell, heaven from hell, blue skies from pain, can you tell a green field, from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?"  _

Peter's eyes were closed as he laid on his bed, Pink Floyd strumming through his record player. This was one of the only times he stayed still. It felt peaceful, but usually he began to tap his foot, to stop his body falling asleep. He was on the brink of dozing off into sleep - where his dreams would be plagued by thoughts of Scott - when someone knocked on his bedroom door. 

Sighing, Peter got up, turned off the record player and moved to the door. To Peter's surprise, the very man himself was standing there. It wasn't quite visible with his visor, but Scott looked slightly uncomfortable. His cheeks were pink and he nibbled on his bottom lip like he was nervous. Peter wanted more than anything in that moment to grab Scott and pull him close, kiss his chapped lips and never let him go. 

_ Whoah!  _

_ Where had those thoughts come from? _ Peter knew he had felt something for Scott, but supposed it to just be the loss of a friend. Not…whatever this was. Blinking himself out of his thoughts, Peter straightened up. 

"What do you want?" he asked, a little abruptly. Scott took a small step back, obviously not looking at Peter. 

"Jean wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us," Scott mumbled. "We're going to the mall to get ice cream." 

This was new. His old friends wanted him back? Maybe they saw how maudlin Peter was becoming, shut up in his bedroom. Oh god, maybe Charles had noticed and told them to. That was even worse. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Peter closed his eyes. He didn't want to see Scott's miserable face. He obviously didn't want Peter to come along. 

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm fine here," Peter forced himself to say. He tried not to think of the fun his old friends would have together at the mall, playing at the arcade. Peter could win every prize in the room if he was there, but he knew he would make it uncomfortable. He didn't look at Scott, but saw the boy nod out of the corner of his eye. 

"Alright. Fine," Scott sounded a little abrupt himself and for a moment Peter regretted his words. But then Scott was walking away and it was too late to take it back. Peter watched him disappear down the stairs, heard the group laughing as they got into the car, saw out the window as it drove off. He then laid back down on his bed, curling up into a ball. He couldn't be bothered to put Pink Floyd back on. He didn't have the heart. 

He stayed in the same position, head in his arms, until he heard them all returning. By then, night had fallen and Peter blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness in his room. He hadn't realised he'd stayed still that long, his muscles had gone stiff. Slowly getting up, he stretched out his body and headed downstairs, feeling his stomach rumbling. 

He tried to avoid the others as best he could, but after finding Pop-Tarts in the cupboard, he realised he couldn't make them at speed. The microwave timer went as slow as a glacier and Peter bounced nervously on his toes, waiting for the familiar beeps that sounded the end of the process. They didn't come quickly enough. 

The group entered the kitchen loudly, but although Peter had his back to them, he could clearly hear Scott stop talking when they realised he was there. The thought hurt Peter more than he wanted it to. He didn't say anything, instead simply grabbing his Pop-Tart from the microwave when it was done and speeding upstairs. He shut his door once again and leant against it for a moment, closing his eyes. He didn't want to think about Scott anymore, but the other boy kept appearing in his mind like some kind of curse. Maybe it was Jean's fault.

She had messed with Peter's mind once before. Only once. He had found out soon after and almost had a panic attack. Back then, Scott had been there. He had rubbed Peter's back, he had given him water, he discussed music with him until Peter was calm enough to breathe properly. Scott was there to help him. Jean had only done it for a joke, but it had backfired. Peter could hardly handle Charles asking him a question in his mind before, and both telepaths knew it wasn't something he liked at all. 

"Get out, Jean," Peter mumbled, forcing the sentence into his mind firmly, but there was no release of tension. Nothing. She wasn't there. She hadn't planted the thought of Scott. It was him. Peter. He'd done it himself. Thinking of Scott so much, regretting losing his friend. Now...wanting to kiss him. This was all too much. Groaning softly, Peter rubbed his forehead and flopped back down on his bed, Pop-Tart forgotten on his bedside table. 

So. He liked Scott. Wanted to kiss him. Wanted to do more with him. Wanted to see Scott smile at him. Hear Scott laugh. Laugh with him. Cuddle him. Hear him whisper Peter's name when they were in bed at night. Touch Scott's hair. Play with his fingers. Hide in Scott's jumpers. Never let him go. 

"Oh god," Peter breathed, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. "I'm in love with Scott Summers." 


	3. Oh, Fuck

Peter wrestled with his thoughts over the next few days, avoiding Scott as much as he could. Of course, when the day came for the mission, he had to sit next to him in the Blackbird. It was awkward, to say the least. Peter had brought his Walkman and was listening to it, making sure to never look Scott's way. Unfortunately, the other boy had taken the window seat and so Peter had to simply stare at Jean's seat in front of him. 

The trip was agonisingly long. Peter even contemplated flying it himself, so at least they might get there before he turned forty. Ugh, that was such a horrible age. Thirty-two wasn't much better, but at least he still looked young. Peter believed he inherited Erik's genes, as the man was in his late fifties and didn't look much older than Peter. Except around the eyes, of course. 

Peter could figure out most people by their eyes. Jean's held insecurity, Kurt's nerves, Erik's multiple personalities. Peter amused himself by glancing around the jet and guessing people's worries and fears. Then he got to Scott beside him. Of course, he had never seen Scott's eyes. The thought made him falter. He didn't know the other boy at all. He couldn't tell whether Scott was insecure or anxious or sad or happy. 

Peter liked to believe Scott showed his emotions through his eyes, as the visible parts of his face were almost always blank. Peter could tell when he properly smiled, as the crinkles around the edges of his visor showed. His nose scrunched up and his white teeth showed. That was a proper smile. Scott hardly ever smiled like that anymore. Or, he never did around Peter. When he was hanging out with the others he probably smiled and laughed as much as he always did. The thought made Peter's mood deflate even further. 

"We're almost there, folks," Hank's voice from the cockpit made Peter jump and Scott grasped his arm, a subconscious reflex to keep Peter in his seat. They stared at each other for a moment, Peter's eyes locked on Scott's visor. Then the moment was lost and Scott's hand slid off Peter's arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. They looked back away and Peter shifted in his seat. This was getting out of hand. He wanted to jump Scott's bones just for touching his wrist? Peter needed to get laid, and soon. But not by Scott. Obviously. 

Peter had never been more relieved when the jet landed and he whizzed out of the door before it had time to properly open. In the near distance he could see the laboratory they would be infiltrating, small puffs of black smoke rising from the chimneys. Bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer in the ring, Peter stretched out his muscles, waiting for the others to leave the jet. He couldn't stand too close to Scott again, he didn't know what might happen. 

"Everyone remember the plan?" Raven said as she stepped down the ramp, followed lastly by Hank. Peter scoffed, crossing his arms after putting his goggles over his eyes. "Of course, you drilled it into us like it was math." 

Raven gave him a look but decided not to snap back. Peter believed it to be a small victory. He didn't need to watch as Jean and Ororo flew into the air to check the amount of guards outside. Peter would deal with them when he got to it. Kurt teleported out with Raven and Hank, leaving Peter and Scott alone by the jet. 

Silence. 

The grass rustled under Peter's trainers and Scott rubbed an itch on his jaw. Neither of them spoke. It was agonising. Peter glanced at his watch, watching the time tick by slower than a snail. He wanted to run in, do his job and get home to the mansion, but he had to wait. He had to keep reminding himself that Kurt would soon return and Peter would be in the full throng of action. 

"I'm sorry." 

The sudden break of silence made Peter jump once again, a twig snapping under his foot. He whipped around to look at Scott, who turned his face away, arms defensively crossed over his chest. Peter's own breath left him slightly. Why was Scott sorry? It was Peter's fault. Everything was Peter's fault. His mouth was dry and he stammered slightly in his reply. 

"Wh-what for?" 

Scott huffed a small laugh, but his face didn't show any amusement. The sound made Peter flinch slightly. He felt like it was sarcastic and it made him stop moving. People always used to make the same sound when watching Peter. He could never keep still, and most people couldn't stand it. 

"For breaking up the group. You got pushed out, and I never meant for that to happen," Scott murmured. His voice was quiet, almost mumbled, but Peter heard every word. He could hardly believe it. Scott was apologising for everything between them? Peter didn't even really know what had happened that forced them apart. 

No, he did.  _ That night. Scott's bad dream. Being awoken by shouts and his shoulders roughly shaken. Scott's glowing visor inches from his face. Peter frozen to the spot in fear and horror. The lights switching on. Jean, Kurt and Ororo rushing in, followed by Charles. Confused voices. Scott being pulled away from Peter. Breathing fast, unable to stop. Losing consciousness. Everything fading to black.  _

Peter flinched. He looked at the ground, scuffing his foot on the grass. He had to replace his trainers so often from the burnt soles, he almost always had new ones. This time they were metallic silver, like the rest of his outfit, but this one was fitted with protection for any dangers they might face. Peter knew the only danger he would be in was if Scott decided to continue the conversation. 

"No, I deserved it," Peter found the words leaving his mouth. Once he started, he just couldn't stop. "I wasn't fast enough to save him. I saved everyone else but not him. I deserved everything you did," Peter's eyes flickered back up to see Scott staring right at him. That red visor didn't hide the expression of pain on his face as he looked at Peter.

"No, you didn't deserve-" Scott began, before Kurt appeared in a puff of blue smoke. Knowing this was his cue, Peter slowed everything down. He took a breath, eyes tracing over Scott's face before he began to run. Entering the laboratory, his gaze caught on several guards, their hands moving to their weapons. He disarmed them easily and carried on through. 

When he reached the control room, he stopped running, glancing around for anything he could use as evidence. He didn't even know what they were working on here. Obviously mutant experimentation, but what type? Rifling through several files, Peter pulled out one to read. Scott appeared at the door, hand on his visor. The earlier awkwardness in his face had faded away and filled with blank determination. 

"Come on, we need to go!" Scott said, stepping into the room and grabbing the file from Peter's hand in favour of tugging him away. Peter shook his head, his eyes catching on a familiar name in the file. He grappled slightly with Scott to get it back, the pair of them struggling for a moment. 

Then the laboratory exploded. 


	4. (I'm sorry for this) PAIN

Peter wasn't concentrating. He had been distracted. The blast happened too fast and Peter barely had time to react. He flung himself over Scott, protecting the boy as they were thrown across the ground, smoke filling the air. It tasted like death and burnt Peter's throat as he sucked in a breath. Even though he hadn't been using his speed, Peter hadn't been knocked unconscious. He could feel a growing pain in his leg, giving him horrible flashbacks to Cairo. His ears rang and he couldn't hear much else. 

Peter could feel Scott's body beneath his, thankfully still warm from life and breathing just enough, though he was motionless. Forcing his eyes open, Peter lifted his head to look around him. The lab had been almost completely destroyed and sunlight streamed onto Peter's face, blinding his blurry vision. He was dimly aware of something dripping down the back of his neck, but his body ached too much to lift his hand and find out what it was. 

Gritting his teeth, Peter shifted but his body felt too heavy. He didn't want to squash Scott beneath him but as he managed to roll his body to the side, a blinding flare of pain rocketed up his back from the crook of his knee. Breathing out shakily and trying to keep his adrenaline from making him shiver, Peter tried again as the smoke wormed into his eyes, making them water. He cried out, the pain worsening as he pushed himself off Scott's body, onto his back. Something embedded in his lower back pushed through his body and Peter almost vomited. 

By being thoughtlessly heroic, Peter, the idiot that he was, had gotten himself in an even worse situation. The main was unthinkable now, the shard of debris a constant jarring reminder of his failure. He just about managed to tilt his head to the side, seeing Scott unconscious beside him. The boy looked so peaceful, unharmed and sleeping. The image calmed Peter's fast mind just slightly, but he was beginning to become woozy from the pain and blood loss. 

He thought the rest of the X-Men had been there. Maybe they had never been there. Maybe this was just a dream. Peter blinked slowly, turning his face up to the sky, a small trickle of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. He didn't wipe it away. He wanted it to be a dream. Though, if it was a dream…then Scott could awaken and kiss Peter better. Yes, that sounded nice. The sunshine was warm, just like Scott's body had been. Everything was so…warm.

Peter couldn't hear anything and when he let his eyes close, he was dead to the world. It felt peaceful. The pain in his back had lulled just enough to be bearable, as long as Peter didn't wriggle. That was hard, as Peter was always moving. He contented himself with shifting his fingers slowly, one by one. Little finger, ring finger, middle finger, index finger, thumb. Then back again. Thumb, index finger, middle finger, ring finger, little finger. Peter's breathing was slowing and he opened his eyes again, just enough to see Scott's face. He managed a tiny smile, tasting blood in his mouth. 

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine-" Peter wheezed slightly, coughing up another spot of blood that dribbled down his chin. The words were becoming harder to find and speak, but Peter kept his gaze firmly on Scott's face. He had to say it to him, at least once. "You make me happy when…when skies are grey." 

The wind ruffled Peter's hair, blowing the last of the smoke away and his lungs finally breathed in a full, mostly clear breath. The action spiked pain down his body and he coughed again, fingers tightening. He slowly shifted his hand, inching across the dusty ground until his numb fingertips touched Scott's wrist. Tears filled Peter's eyes as he gripped on as tight as he could. 

"You'll never know dear, h-how much I love you," Peter's tiny voice cracked and he forced down a whimper of pain. He was terrified and he didn't want to finish the song. He didn't even know why he was singing it. He remembered he knew it from a funeral he'd gone to as a child. How fitting. Peter couldn't bring himself to smile. He had been young, he barely knew the deceased, but his mother had dragged him along and forced him to be respectable. They had sung that song and now Peter felt as if he was singing it at his own funeral. 

Biting back his emotions, Peter blinked once, twice, then as his vision began to fade, he whispered the last few words. Scott's eyes opened behind his visor just in time to see the light fade from Peter's face. "Please don't take my sunshine away…" 

"Peter!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go, guys! Do you want a sequel to this fic? I kinda want to write one.


	5. Half Dead

_"Breathe, breathe in the air, don't be afraid to care, leave, but don't leave me, look around, choose your own ground."_

That sounded familiar. Peaceful. One of Peter's favourite songs. He knew every word, could sing them off by heart. If this was heaven, it was nice to arrive with a fanfare of Pink Floyd. Peter didn't open his eyes, but could almost feel the whiteness that he would see if he opened them. Peter didn't believe in heaven or hell, but had never expected he'd end up in the good place. 

Muffled voices confused him. Heaven was meant to be silent, with only angels singing. Peter remembered learning about it from his old school. Funny, how he remembered education now. Those voices didn't sound like angels. They sounded upset, angry, scared. Not the voices of angels, inviting him into the silver city. 

Peter could still feel a dull ache in the small of his back, the shard of debris which had killed him. How could he still feel it? This wasn't fair. He wanted to be away from the pain, away from everything. Well, perhaps not everything. He didn't want to be away from Scott. He never wanted to be away from Scott. 

The thought made Peter start to panic, the memory of his last moments coming back to him in a flood. He whimpered, trying to open his eyes but they felt glued shut and heavy. His limbs were unresponsive, which terrified him. Being immobilised was Peter's greatest fear and he could hardly move. Forcing himself to stay calm, Peter listened to the voices surrounding him, disoriented and bewildered. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could tell one voice was Scott's. Of course it was. Scott would never leave him. Not now. Not after everything. 

But Scott wasn't his, Peter reminded himself bitterly. He felt a hand press against his shoulder, tried in vain to move, to let Scott know he was still alive. He could feel he wasnt breathing, knew the voices thought he was dead. Why was his mind still active, however? Hank had mentioned that the brain stayed alive for about three minutes after death. Perhaps this was what it was. Peter's last moments. Unable to cry, unable to say goodbye, unable to fight for his life. Just there to wait for his demise. 

The warm hand slid away from Peter, off his shoulder and disappeared from his senses. No! Peter tried to tighten his hands into fists, but they didn't even twitch. Scott couldn't go. Peter was still in there. He had to tell Scott, had to let him know how he felt. Peter felt several tears leak out of the corners of his eyes, a white-hot reminder that he was currently still alive. As time moved slower for him, he had at least half a minute left. Enough time to do what? Peter was unable to move, unable to do anything. 

_"For long you live and high you fly, and smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry, and all your touch and all you see, is all your life will ever be…"_

Shut the fuck up! Peter's jaw tightened in frustration. He wasn't going to live a long life if he didn't find some way to get out of the in-between state he was currently stuck inside. Starting to get desperate, Peter focused back on the voices he could hear above him. One sounded resigned now, the other still pleading. A third voice interjected after a few moments and Peter's internal countdown was turning to the last seconds. 

_"Peter?"_

Peter's chest filled with relief and he almost cried more than he already had. That was the professor's voice, loud and clear inside his own mind. Trembling, Peter tried his best to reply, but his brain was beginning to shut down. He couldn't find the words to say he was still in there. Desperation pushed forward in Peter's head and he thrust random words at where he had heard Charles' voice. 

_"Breathe - run - dad - Wanda - alone - lost - Scott."_

Peter's brain was closing off, but he could just about hear a newfound determination in the voices above him. Just as the last light flickered out in Peter's mind, a massive, painful jolt to the chest made him gasp, sucking in a sharp breath, feeling his head power back on. The voices turned triumphant, filled with relief and Peter let his body relax, the heartbeat returning to normal showing he had escaped his fate. 

Just before Peter let himself sleep, content in the knowledge that he was safe, he felt the same warm hand touch his cheek, thumb brushing across the bone. His head was too heavy to move, but he mentally rested against that hand, knowing Scott was staying by his side. He was too tired to try and figure out what the change in Scott was, but he was happy nonetheless. 


	6. Breathe (In The Air)

It was bright in the lab when Peter's eyes opened. He blinked, eyes stinging at the glare. A dull murmur from one side of him, and the light was dimmed. Peter let his eyes focus on the ceiling, counting the tiles for a moment before he slowly looked around. He was in the hospital area of Hank's lab, sheets wrapped so firm around his body he could barely move. That was probably to keep him from wriggling. At least Hank understood. Peter's skin was already prickling. He was restless, he needed to move. 

"Ah, you're awake. Thank goodness." 

Peter could discern the voice. Yes, it was Hank, peering at him through his glasses. Peter swallowed, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth in an attempt to speak. His mouth was drier than the Sahara. As if Hank was a mind reader he moved out of sight before returning with a glass of cool water. It had a straw and Peter took a few sips, the cold making him feel more alive by the second. Hank spoke again, but Peter could hardly understand what he was saying. His ears were ringing, like they had been after the explosion. He felt numb, numb in his vision, numb in his hearing, numb in his touch. Everything felt fuzzy. 

"Scott will be back in a moment, I'm sure. He's hardly left your side." 

Peter's ears pricked up. He could pick out Scott's name easily. Scott was there? Peter tilted his head stiffly to look around the room, but it was empty aside from them. Peter's hopes were momentarily dashed, until he saw a slightly blurry figure step in through the door. It was most definitely Scott. Peter should have been embarrassed that he could see Scott with just a blurry outline of his body, but Peter didn't care at the moment. 

Scott seemed to notice Peter was awake, as he quickened his pace, ending up by Peter's bedside. Once there, he faltered, hand reaching for Peter's, which was limp by his side. Peter wanted to do so much, but he could hardly raise his head. He just watched, blinking, as Scott debated with himself on whether to hold Peter's hand. Eventually, he settled on just squeezing it once before letting to and sitting down beside the bed. 

"Hey, Pete," Scott murmured softly. "How're you feeling?" 

Peter's brain jumbled up Scott's words and he hesitated, lips parted. He didn't know what to say in reply. He barely understood what was said. He didn't remember exactly why he was there, why Scott was being so…nice to him. It was strange. Peter stayed silent, his mouth feeling as if it was full of cotton wool. 

Scott looked at him, hopefully, and Peter's heart filled with guilt. He didn't know what to say, couldn't think how to form the words. He simply stared back, wishing he could convey his apology through his eyes. He couldn't see Scott's, and for once, couldn't tell his expression at all. Usually he was able to read Scott pretty well. He'd gotten used to having to look at the lower half of his face for an indication of his emotions. Now, Peter could hardly work them out. 

"He's just woken up, it'll take him a while to get his bearings. And he's high on morphine." 

That was Hank again, speaking this time to Scott. It must have made sense to the other boy, as he nodded in reply. It sounded like an indistinguishable mumble to Peter, but he could hear everything else pretty easily. His brain wasn't catching up when they talked. He couldn't work out the words. Peter swallowed, a funny taste in his mouth that he couldn't describe. 

He could feel Scott's burning gaze back on him, but he couldn't tell whether he was even looking or not. That visor was really starting to frustrate him. Peter shifted his hand, breathing out when it rolled slightly, ending palm-up on the bed beside his hip. Scott noticed the movement and gently slid his palm against Peter's. Scott's hand was slightly calloused and Peter felt relieved at such a human touch. It brought him a little closer to reality. 

"He's in there, I know he is," Scott's face turned directly towards Peter, and now he was sure those eyes were on him. It was mildly frightening, with that unforgiving visor giving Peter the impression that Scott could blast him apart with barely a thought. Peter felt Scott squeeze his hand. It took most of his strength, but Peter slowly tightened his fingers around Scott's hand, squeezing back. He felt Scott breathe in, saw a smile growing on his face. When had Scott become so close to him? Did he lose some memories while he was out? 

"You scared us for a minute there, Quick. We thought we were going to lose you." 

The corner of Peter's mouth twitched, and curved up in a tiny smile. The nickname - although Scott had never called him that before - was nice. It made Peter feel wanted. Part of the group again. The smile made Scott return it, bigger than before. Scott didn't seem to mind that Peter wasn't ready to speak yet, or fully understand what he was saying. Scott was content to talk, and Peter was content to watch, and occasionally listen in when he thought he could understand certain words. It would be a long road, but Peter was determined to walk it. He was still in there, the old Peter. Quicksilver would return, soon enough. Perhaps with a little less of a 'no-fucks' attitude, but other than that, it would be him. Peter Maximoff. 


	7. The End of the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

"Hey, Peter! Look, guys, Peter's back!" 

The voice started Peter slightly, but Scott was there by his side to support him. He could feel Scott's arm around his waist, their shoulders pressed together. Peter hated to admit it, but he did need Scott's help for walking around. It had been a long road since he woke up in the hospital, with significant brain damage. The professor had explained that it was because he had been awake in his mind, while his body was dead. Apparently only Peter's mind was fast enough to keep him aware at that time. 

"Hey, be gentle, okay?" Peter came back to reality at the sound of Scott's voice. He momentarily wondered who he was talking to, before he noticed several of the younger kids running over. He smiled, knowing he was a favourite of theirs. With Scott's assistance, he knelt down closer to them.

"I'll be up and about soon, back to my old self," Peter smiled, gently poking little Bobby in the chest. The kids giggled and all patted Peter's silver hair. He was a marvel to them, even when he could hardly walk. 

Peter had expected everyone to abandon him, after he'd woken up and realised it would take a long time to get back to his speed. He thought that was all he was. As he straightened back up again, he saw Scott smile at him. 

"What?" Peter asked, blinking at him. Scott grinned, holding Peter closer. "Nothing. You just look so much better than you did before." 

Peter shrugged, leaning into Scott's side. He knew the other man would support him. "I'm doing my best, though I'm dying to run again." 

Scott walked them over to one of the benches in the garden and they both sat down. Peter breathed out once the weight was off his feet, but Scott didn't drop his arm from around Peter. "You'll get there. Look, when you woke up you could hardly move, hardly speak. You were a mess," Scott smiled. "Now, you're so much more Peter Maximoff." 

Peter gave Scott a crooked grin. "No, I'm going to be better than before. Peter Maximoff 2.0. The new model," he said with a small laugh, leaning into Scott's chest, feeling Scott hold him tighter. Peter had never known someone hold him with so much care, but also so much strength. It made Peter feel warm inside, because he knew Scott was there. 

"Is the new model going to run off as soon as he gets his powers back?" Scott raised an eyebrow, which peeked above his visor. Peter shrugged, looking out over the school grounds.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he glanced at Scott. "I could bring you with me," he smiled, gently nudging him. "We could travel the world. It would be amazing." 

Scott grinned, hand gently squeezing Peter's shoulder, hugging him close. Peter automatically leant into the touch. "Globe trotting, huh? Well, as long as we get to see all the sights, I wouldn't mind it at all." 

Peter nodded, feeling his heart swell in his chest as he tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to Scott's lips. "You are the sights," he replied with a soft grin. Scott stared at him, momentarily speechless, until Peter elbowed him. "What?" 

Scott huffed out a soft laugh, hugging Peter closer. "This new model is a sweet talker," he smiled. "But you better take me to Los Angeles, first." 

Peter grinned, relaxing into Scott's side. "As you wish. City of Angels, here we come."

_ "Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day, fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way, kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town, waiting for someone or something to show you the way…"  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is such a bad epilogue, I just wanted to give you guys some Silvercyclops content. In my other new fics, I have some better writing of them.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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